


fifteen letters

by LunchLich



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1800's, Alternate Universe - Historical, Cole (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, First Kiss, First Meetings, Halward Pavus Being an Asshole, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, References to Jane Austen, Running Away, Secret Relationship, Sweet The Iron Bull (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunchLich/pseuds/LunchLich
Summary: Dorian Pavus, the son of a powerful Magister and socialite, must choose between his family's reputation and his own happiness when he finds himself enchanted by a charming Qunari man staying at his friend's estate.Written for the Adoribull Holiday Exchange 2020 as a gift for Roshy, who asked for a what-if 1800's au with lots of pining.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Sera (Dragon Age), Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38
Collections: Adoribull Holiday Gift Exchange 2020!





	1. Pianoforte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roshytsunami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roshytsunami/gifts).



_'My Dear Dorian,_

_It's been quite some time since our last correspondence, or our last meeting for that matter. Have you heard the news of my eldest sister? She's to be married at the end of May. She's met a man with an abundance of both looks and coin. A high ranking Qunari officer no less, who was stationed in Minrathous. After they are married they set to return to Par Vollen. This is all to say, I've found myself in many bouts of introspection as of late, in an odd state of both joy for my sister and sorrow that she will soon be leaving us._

_In this introspection, I have realized I am greatly missing your company. I would be honoured if you would dine with us at your earliest convenience, and share of your newest escapades. You are welcomed as a guest in our estate for as long as you'd like if you require such respite._

_Sincerely, Lada Adaar'_

Dorian smiles as he folds the letter back in on itself and tucks it into his jacket. In need of respite he was, though there was nothing new with that. It felt as if every day his parents were onto him about something. Dorian, sit and do your lessons. Dorian, get your nose out of your book and take a walk. Dorian, why aren't you interested in any of the suitable young ladies we introduce you to? It was all horse shit, they knew exactly why. But they wanted to pretend they didn't.

Ms Adaar finds herself in a similar situation. He's happy to indulge in his confidant's invitation. 

He packs enough clothes for a good few days, formal wear included - just in case. He sets a book for the carriage ride there on top of his clothes and clasps the box shut before he hurries downstairs. He can't leave fast enough. 'At your earliest convenience,' Lada's letter had said, and his earliest convenience happens to be as soon as possible. 

"Where are you headed in such a scurry?" His mother asks from the parlour as he passes through, her cross-stitch in her lap and an inquisitive quirk to her brow. 

"The Adaar estate. I've been summoned for a visit by Miss Adaar."

"Have you?" 

"Do you not believe me? Your lack of trust pains me, mother." Dorian huffs as if she or his father have no reason to doubt him, as if he'd never lied about where he was off to before. That's how he'd gotten into half of his trouble in the first place. He reaches into the breast of his jacket to retrieve the letter and hands it over to his mother. "See for yourself. I haven't decided how long I'll be away. No longer than a week, I'm sure." 

His mother reads over the letter, a slow smile coming over her lips. When she's done, she folds it and tucks it beside her. "I must show your father the good news. Off with you, now." 

Dorian's thankful he's able to suppress the urge to roll his eyes until he turns around. It's not a surprise to him. Lada's social standing is enough to outweigh her being Qunari, in his parent's eyes, and yet some part of him is amazed they can't see the truth. If not the truth, at least see that they have no romantic interest between them. 

They've known each other well before marrying age. Now Lada's parents were pushing her to find a husband before she becomes an old maid. They'd take a poor man, even, for Maker's sake. If they were to be wed, it would have happened already. "Farewell, Mother. May I take the carriage?"

"Of course, dear."

The journey through the countryside brings nothing noteworthy. He's engulfed in his book for most of it, and when he isn't nose-first in the pages he's watching the fields pass by through the window and growing excited about his visit. Chatting with Lada over wine, gossiping and whining about their families. Perhaps a few trips into town or through the gardens. 

Her family is good company as well. They tolerate him - and if he were to be bold he would say they even fancied him - and that was more than he could say for many of his parent's friends. He was the black sheep of Tevinter, at least that's how it often felt. To say that it truly bothered him would be a lie. As long as he inherited his family's estate, he'd be able to get by comfortably. Collecting connections were of little interest, especially when they came with the sacrifice of marriage.

When the carriage pulls to a stop, Dorian closes his book and tucks it back into his luggage. Their estate is larger than his own, admittedly, with a garden to be envious of. His own library was far more impressive, though, so he had that to brag about at least. One of the servants waits at the stairs, rocking on her heels excitedly. She doesn't do a very good job standing straight and proper. 

"Good afternoon, Sera." He greets.

The servant girl grins wide, and Dorian gets the horrid feeling that she knows something he does not. She's served the Adaar's long enough that he knows when it comes to Sera, that means nothing good. "Afternoon! Miss Adaar's been expecting ya, c'mon." There's a bounce in her step as she heads up the stairs. He follows with a new hesitance. 

She guides him inside to the parlour, stopping at the door and heading inside first to announce him. "Mister Dorian Pavus," She says with a bow, gesturing to the door. 

He sees no need for such a formal entrance and introduction for the Adaar's. Of course, he enjoys a flair of drama now and then, but if this is the joke Sera is in on then it isn't very funny. Regardless, he enters the room and gives a flamboyant bow to play along, his arms going out as he bows, his coattail swinging up to add to the flourish. When he stands and finally looks up, expecting Lada to start laughing from her chair, or her parents to give a judgemental side-eye, he sees Lada, though not with her parents. 

A Qunari man he's never met before stands from the sofa and gives a bow. Dorian isn't easily embarrassed, but the smirk that pulls at the man's lips over his theatrics makes heat rise to his face. "My apologies- I didn't, I wasn't aware there was to be another guest." The Altus sputters out.

"No need, Mr Pavus." 

Lada laughs from beside him and rushes over to hug Dorian, the heels of her shoes tapping on the marble floor with each bounding step. She wraps her arms around him and lifts him into the hug, without her parents around to chastise her for being rude or unladylike. "It's wonderful to see you again. Please, come meet Mr Ashkaari." She says. She holds her elbow out for Dorian to hold, for her to escort him to the chair. 

To say he was confused was an understatement. Lada didn't act like this in front of anyone she wasn't close to, and certainly wouldn't be bold enough to interact with Dorian in such a way if she didn't trust this man. And yet Dorian had never heard of this Mr Ashkaari. Had she met him since they last spoke? Had her parents finally matched her with someone?

He was certainly husband material. With a large stature and nice clothes, a handsome smile. His scarred face and the way he held himself suggested that he was a soldier. He hadn't expected Lada to... Bend so easily to her parent's wills, however. Something seemed off. Unless this was her sister's husband to be...? He gives another short bow before he seats himself in the chair opposite to the sofa where Lada and Mr Ashkaari have returned. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Ashkaari. Any friend of Ms Lada's is a friend of mine." 

"Likewise."

"Mr Ashkaari is visiting all the way from Fereldan. Isn't that exciting?"

Well, that explains why he's never met him before. What it doesn't explain is how Lada knows him and why she failed to mention his presence in her letter. He came as soon as he got it; she knew their visits would line up. "Very. How long are you staying?"

"A few weeks," The burly Qunari says. It amazes him that they make clothes to fit such broad shoulders. "Mr And Mrs Adaar are old friends of mine and were kind enough to let me stay here while I attend to some business." 

He isn't Lada's sister's new fiance if he's from Ferelden and is leaving again in a few weeks. The letter very clearly said that the man her sister was to be wed to was stationed in Minrathous. He doesn't see a ring on either of their fingers. "That's wonderful. Are you enjoying your stay so far?"

"I am, thank you. The weather here is definitely a lot different than what I'm used to in Fereldan." Mr Ashkaari chuckles. "Warmer. Reminds me of home." 

"Are you originally from Par Vollen, then?" Dorian crosses his legs and leans back in his chair.

"I am. Moved to Fereldan after being stationed in Seheron for a good while. I'm settled in Haven, now." 

"I've heard only good things about the place. I'd love to travel in Fereldan someday."

"Why haven't you?" He asks, and Dorian doesn't have a response prepared. Because he's been entangled in politics? Because him leaving Tevinter would look as if he was fleeing from the scandal attached to his name? There isn't any truthful answer that wouldn't invite more questions.

"I haven't gotten around to it quite yet." He says instead. 

"Well, when you do, write me a letter and I'll give you a place to stay." Though one of his eyes is covered by a gold-detailed eye patch, it doesn't inhibit his expressions. His good eye sparkles and crinkles at the edges with his smile, and Dorian can see a hint of dimples beneath dark stubble. 

"That's very kind of you. I'll keep that in mind." 

Lada looks between them with a different kind of sparkle in her eye, one he saw far too often when they were younger. Just like Sera, she looks like there's something she knows that he does not, and he's growing increasingly worried. Sera with a plan is bad, Sera in on a plan with Lada is disastrous. "I'm delighted you two are finally able to meet."

"As am I. I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr Pavus."

Dorian tenses. Of course he had. He didn't expect it to be such scandal that it had travelled beyond borders, but he should know better by now that he's allowed no true break from it. Luck never serves in his favour. "Ah, I wasn't aware I was so notorious in Fereldan."

"Not to snuff out your ego, but everything i've heard of you was from Miss Lada herself."

"Don't worry. You can't snuff out Dorian's ego." Ms Adaar smiles far too innocently and winks when Dorian makes eye contact with her. "Trust me, I've tried many times."

"No, but a gentle humbling now and then is appreciated." 

Mr Ashkaari laughs, loud and deep, and Dorian shoots a glare in Lada's direction.

Sera comes in soon enough to interrupt their small talk with news of dinner. It's welcomed, Dorian is starving and knows Lada will behave herself with her parents present. They seat themselves at the dinner table where the servants have already set the dishes. Aromatic meats and vegetables, with spices from both Tevinter and Par Vollen. Desserts are already set out on the table as well, rich cakes with chocolate toppings. If he were in his own home, he'd indulge in those first. But he's no barbarian. He has manners, sometimes.

Lada is seated opposite to him, and Mr Ashkaari takes the chair to his right. Mrs Adaar takes up the head of the table while Mr Adaar and Lada's sisters take up the rest of the seats. "It's wonderful to have you again, Dorian. Is your family in good health?" 

"They are, thank you." 

"How long will we be blessed with your presence?" He's grateful that the conversation of his family ends there. He has Mr Ashkaari to thank for that, most likely, not wanting to make him speak so personally in front of someone he had just met.

"Oh, three or for days at most. I wouldn't want you to tire of me." He chuckles. "I'm sure my parents will appreciate my absence for the time being."

"Why do you think we've been trying to marry these ones off so quickly?" Mr Adaar nods towards his daughters with a sly grin. "Our home will be blissfully quiet once they're out of here."

"Papa!" 

Dorian smiles, more at Lada's response than the joke she's the butt of. He's only allowed to laugh because they're in the same boat. "Miss Adaar informed me of your eldest's engagement. Congratulations."

"Isn't it wonderful?" Mrs Adaar beams. "I was starting to worry she'd never settle, picky girl. It gives me hope for Lada's future. Perhaps Mr Ashkaari's visit will sway her." 

Dorian glances to Lada and they share a tight-lipped smile that reads as grimaces only to them. There's a sadness in her eyes, one he empathizes with. That settles that, then, that the two aren't engaged. It's a relief. He couldn't blame her if her parents had finally widdled her will down enough to be agreeable. Marrying would make her life much easier, but after so many traded letters and quiet late-night conversations about how they valued authenticity... He'd begun to find her something of a hypocrite if this had been the truth.

After dinner, both family and guests retire to the music room. It's more comfortable with more seating than the parlour, with plenty of open space and art along the walls and a piano near the corner. He sits next to Lada on one of the sofa's and hopes he's able to sneak a few whispered questions once her parents encourage one of her younger sisters to show off their pianoforte. 

That... Doesn't happen, though. All three of Lada's younger sisters squish themselves onto one of the sofa's and their parents pay them no mind as they giggle behind their hands and fawn over Mr Ashkaari. For that, he cannot fault them. "I don't mean to put you on the spot, Mr Ashkaari, but I've heard rumours that you play." Mrs Adaar sits with her hands folded in her lap, with her husband at her side. They're the example of a perfect family, what his own parents wish they were.

"I do." 

"Oh, could you please play for us?" Idania, the second youngest of the Adaar sisters, pleads. 

Mr Ashkaari stands with a chuckle and a nod. His hulking form looks comical when he sits at the piano bench, and Dorian isn't expecting much from him, this huge Qunari soldier who exudes masculinity. Clearly, his biases betray him as his fingers dance gracefully over the keys when he begins to play. It's either a genuine hobby of his or he's very, very good at faking passion for something he was forced to learn. It's quite the sight to behold, the way he plays with such ease and confidence.

"He's wonderful, isn't he?"

"He is, though I question your arrangement for us to meet. Why invite me now, of all times?" He whispers back.

"While he's about as far from my type as he possibly could be, I have a sneaking suspicion that he is yours, and you may be his."

"What exactly are you insinuating?" He prays that he receives an answer that debunks his current theory, that cuts the threads he's connecting between this and her and Sera's strange behaviour. The mischievous grin he receives instead is far worse than any answer he'd anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so. this... *glances nervously at word count* got out of hand REAL quick, and because I was also working on a deadline, it ended up with some wacky pacing that's sort of a slow burn speedrun? Either way, I hope you enjoy it, even with the weird pacing!


	2. Humpty Dumpty

Dorian's thoughts are hard to tame. They race at a speed he cannot control and his mind overanalyzes everything, no matter how small it may be. When he retires to his guest room for the night, he's too distracted to read. When he gets frustrated and blows out to candle in hopes he can rest, his efforts are futile. 

'Not to snuff out your ego, but everything I've heard of you was from Miss Lada herself', Mr Ashkaari had said. 

What had Lada told him? How much did he know about Dorian? And if his suspicion was correct, if Lada was trying to play matchmaker, was Mr Ashkaari aware of this?

'He's about as far from my type as he possibly could be, I have a sneaking suspicion that he is yours, and you may be his'.

And what had that meant? You may be his. Had that been her way of saying that he fancied men? Was this something she knew to be a fact, or an assumption? The latter would be less than helpful. He wants more answers. Unfortunately, he's acutely aware that even if he were to get Lada completely alone where they could speak freely, he wouldn't be getting any of those straight answers he desires. 

It's also why he isn't the slightest bit surprised that after inviting him to go horseback riding with her and Mr Ashkaari the very next morning, she finds an excuse to ditch them at the last minute. Quite literally last minute, as they're saddling their horses and Dorian is just about to lift his foot into the stirrup. 

"Oh!" She exclaims. She's a horrible actress. Her expressions too exaggerated and her tone too practised. "Oh, my deepest apologies. I forgot that I promised my mother I'd assist Zaria with her lessons today. She'll be terribly angry if I don't keep my word."

"No worries." Mr Ashkaari says. He seems unbothered, though Dorian finds him hard to read. He takes pride in being well versed in reading body language, the gift that was given by a rich and, for the most part, sociable life. Mr Ashkaari seems to be an exception to this talent.

"You two can go on without me. Get more acquainted." She says before turning on her heel and walking quickly away from the stables. She isn't as sneaky as she thinks she is. Her plan works, though, and he supposes in that case her stealth doesn't matter, for Mr Ashkaari pulls himself up onto his horse regardless of the change in plan. Dorian does the same and nervously follows Mr Ashkaari out of the stables. 

"Mind leading, Mr Pavus? I'm sure you're much more acquainted with the best views of this countryside than I."

"Of course," Dorian swallows and guides his horse in a light trot just ahead of the other man. "The weather is beautiful for riding today, isn't it?" 

"It is."

"Not too strong of a breeze, yet not too warm."

"Quite." Dorian struggles to build off the small talk. He was raised a noble, a socialite. He thought he'd be well equipped to handle awkward situations. He can't stop thinking about Lada's intentions, though, and his wonders of how involved Mr Ashkaari is... If he's involved at all. Dorian fears he's here out of pity after Lada told him his story. A scarier thought is that he was dragged into this unknowingly. "Is this your first visit to Tevinter?" He finally says.

"Far from it. I've been here for business on a handful of occasions."

"Is that how you know the Adaar's?" 

"It is. May I ask how you know the family?"

Thank the maker, something he can work with. His knuckles were beginning to turn white from how tightly his fists were clenched around the reigns. "My family met the Adaar's at a ball when Lada and I were children. No older than ten. I was attempting to get myself upstairs to explore this house that i had never been in when I saw her sitting against the wall. She had a toy, so of course my interest was piqued." He laughs to himself, thinking back on the memory that felt like a lifetime ago. "We distracted each other from getting into too much trouble for the rest of the party, so our parents approved." He laughs. "We've been friends ever since." 

"Ah, so you're another troublemaker." Mr Ashkaari snickers, though he has no idea how true that statement is. "It's a miracle you two haven't snatched each other up."

"She has her own interests, and I have mine. Despite our parent's best efforts, we have no interest in marrying." 

"Not interested in marrying, or not interested in marrying each other?"

"That's quite the bold question, Mr Ashkaari," Dorian says through his teeth. "If your prodding is to ask if Miss Lada is searching for a husband despite the conversation over dinner, I can give you that answer right now. If you wish to pursue her I cannot stop you, only warn you to brace yourself for rejection." He's snippier than he should be to a stranger, perhaps. It isn't Mr Ashkaari's fault that questions of marriage tend to bristle him, but sweet maker, he shouldn't be asking such intrusive questions to a man he just met in the first place. Especially about a woman who wasn't there to speak for herself. No matter how frustrated he is with Lada at the moment, he cares about her. He'll always be the first to jump to her defence. ...Aside from Sera.

"My apologies that my words came on so strong." Mr Ashkaari says after a pause to think. He speaks... More softly, as if to show he's backing off. Understanding, Dorian thinks. "I have no such intentions with Ms Adaar. I know her gaze is focused on another." 

Dorian turns his head to look at him. Mr Ashkaari shows no expression and keeps his good eye on the path ahead. There's no judgement, no disgusted curl of his lips. He's still put on edge. "It'd be for the best if you kept that to yourself."

"Ms Adaar has my promise that her secret is safe with me. I only mention it knowing that you know it, as well." 

Mr Ashkaari knows about Lada and Sera. That's quite the leap of faith for her, quite the secret to share. He supposes he shouldn't be as surprised as he is that the Qunari man doesn't seem to mind. He's from Fereldan, after all, and Par Vollen before then. He's heard tell that men bed other men and women lay with women, as frequently as a man will with a woman there. He signals his horse into a faster trot and grits his teeth. He's a smart man, but not smart enough to overcome his nosiness and insatiable curiosity. "How much do you know of me, truthfully?"

While in reality, it's likely only a few seconds, it feels like many long minutes before Mr Ashkaari answers. "Why don't we circle back and bring the horses to the stables? We can walk to town and talk. It's easier to chat on foot than on horseback."

He isn't wrong, but the way it drags the topic on fills him with anxiety. His curiosity is not without impatience. They turn around and trot quickly back to the stables with Mr Ashkaari taking the lead back. He hasn't the slightest clue how this conversation will go or what it will lead to. Regardless, he has no real excuse to get out of it. He's not sure he wants to, for how else would his curiosity be quenched?

The town is not all that far. It's easy to walk to, a short distance for everything it holds. Streets lined with shops of all sorts and quaint homes. The walk is more than long enough for conversation, though, so by the time Mr Ashkaari begins that conversation the horses are back in their places and the stables are far behind them. No chance of anyone overhearing them. 

"Yesterday, when I said I'd heard a lot about you... What did you think I'd heard?"

Dorian scoffs. Really, what was there to lose? He didn't throw a fit about Lada. And if he was staying here, interacting with him, there was no doubt in Dorian's mind that he'd catch bits and pieces of rumours at the very least. "Last spring," Despite having nothing to lose his legs still feel unstable. "I was caught in bed with a nobleman's son. He invited me over while his father was away for business and told the servants to be out of the house for the day so they wouldn't be able to tell on us. Unfortunately for everyone involved, his father returned earlier than planned and caught us in the act. 

He has mercy and spares many of the details that make the tale worse. "His father was persuasive and was able to convince most everyone that I'd seduced his son and corrupted him. His son didn't say otherwise, and I can't fault him for it."

"That's all?" 

"The rumour spread quickly and my family couldn't control all the damage it caused. My father wouldn't let me leave the house for months. Most still see my parents as failures and me as a deviant, warning their sons to keep their distance."

"That... Was an insensitive comment, wasn't it?"

"Quite."

"My apologies. That sort of thing doesn't happen in Fereldan. Or Par Vollen. Men bed other men all the damn time." 

"Perhaps I should convert to the Qun then," Dorian snorts when Mr Ashkaari let's out a huff of a chuckle. "What all did Ms Lada tell you, then, if not that?" 

"She told me that you were highly intelligent and had a sharp tongue, that you debate. She told me that you do as you please. That you have a rebellious streak. That you're incredibly handsome, and that you fancy men."

Oh, Lada was really selling him, wasn't she? That didn't outweigh the unease her telling him of his... preference, however. Couldn't she have at least asked him first? It was his secret to share, even if she shared the same one. "It's all flattery, Mr Ashkaari." 

"It's all true from what I've seen thus far. And it's Bull."

Dorian chooses to ignore the subtle compliment and the way it makes his cheeks flush. "Excuse me?"

"Most of my friends call me Bull. Ashkaari isn't a name, exactly, we don't do that under the Qun. It's a title. Bull is what I chose to call myself. I hate unnecessary formality, anyway."

"In that case, there's no need to use my surname when it's only us or Lada."

"Well then, Dorian," Bull smiles and Dorian can feel his heart tighten in a way it never has. He isn't sure what that means for him. "What shall we do once we get into town? You might have to give me a tour."

\---

The next morning is beautiful, birds chirping and a faint breeze carrying the scent of summer florals. The sun is bright even before he draws back the curtains in his guest room. He isn't given much time to appreciate it as he stands at the window before a knock comes at his door. He hasn't even had a chance to change from his sleep clothes, sleep still in his eyes. "I'll be down in a moment!" 

"It's Lada!"

"Ah. Come in, then." Perfect, nothing like a chance to give your best friend a stern talking to before breakfast. He turns and leans against the windowsill, arms crossed when she opens the door. 

"Why must you make me feel like a child about to be scolded?"

"You may as well be. What the hell were you thinking, telling him? You couldn't have asked me first?"

"So you two talked about it... Dorian- I know that wasn't the best idea. I wanted to surprise you."

"With what? Panic? A heart attack? Maker's breath, Lada, what's your motive? If you're trying to play matchmaker, you're doing a shit job of it. Even I wanted to be with Bull, you know I couldn't."

Lada doesn't give a defence, doesn't even look like she's trying to think of a response. She simply stares at him with a growing, mischievous smile. 

"What?"

"You called him Bull."

He sure had, hadn't he, a name that Bull said only friends called him, an informal nickname. That didn't lend much to his case of, 'even if I wanted this'. His point still stood, though. Unless Lada's goal was to give him a fleeting affair, her attempts at matchmaking wouldn't go far. His parents still watched him like a hawk, still attempted to match him with any woman who didn't look down her nose at the family. 

"It's- That's beside the point. You haven't answered any of my questions."

Lada sighs. "I'm not saying that I am. But if I was indeed playing matchmaker, what would be so wrong about that? I want you to be happy." 

"Optimism is one thing, naivety is another." The weight of those words rests heavily on his shoulders. He wants that too, of course, what fool doesn't strive for happiness? It's human nature. And yet he believes happiness is a reward of being true to self, and simply refusing to pretend isn't true authenticity. 

He's been situated on a wall for a long while now. On one side is what would make his family happy, what would keep the world comfortable. It is a good name and good coin. It is secrets. On the other is vulnerability and freedom. It is long nights yearning. It is a simpler life with more complex joys. It is a sacrifice. 

And perhaps it is not Lada's optimism that makes her the naive one here, but his own refusal to uproot himself from the safe, comfortable middle of misery and happiness. And perhaps she isn't as foolish as he initially thought for pushing him to chose a side of the wall for him to land on.

If she has anything to say to that, he doesn't hear it, lost in peering through the window again at the trees swaying in the wind. He'd take a sunny day over one where the clouds covered the sun but brought no rain, any day. Perhaps he should follow more of those sunny days.

"...I actually came to ask you if you wanted to join us," Lada speaks quietly. "We're going to sneak out with breakfast for a picnic- Mr Ashkaari, Sera, and I. And you, if you'd bless us with your presence." 

"You know I can never turn down an offer to sneak out. Give me a moment to make myself presentable, and I'll be right down."

Lada's dampened mood seems to be somewhat recovered when he says this, as she gives him a small smile before going on her way. How he's going to climb down the wall he's stuck himself on, he can't say. But he supposes getting dressed for this picnic was an alright start. 

The three are already outside in the garden when he shuffles downstairs to look for them. He spots them out the window and heads to join them, Sera with a basket of food in her arms, Lada with a blanket, and Bull wearing a shirt with the top button popped instead of a waistcoat. The white, flowing fabric against silvery skin makes him look like he's glowing in the sun.

"Good morning, Sera." He nods at her and she gives him a wave, a giddy smile on her face as she stands shoulder to shoulder with Lada. Well... Shoulder to elbow, really, with their height difference. 

"And to you as well, Bull." When he nods at Bull it's met with a warm smile and a nod in return.

"Good morning, Dorian. I trust you slept well?"

"I did, thank you. Shall we be off? Do we have anywhere particular in mind?"

"There's a clearing not too far into the woods. It isn't much of a walk, but it gives privacy." Lada says as she begins to walk towards the woods that start to the left of the estate. It's on their property, yet the only time anyone ventures into the woods is during hunting season. Seeing as they're in the middle of the summer months, they should be unbothered. She and Sera walk ahead, hooking arms when they deem themselves far enough from the house to do so. He can't hear what they're talking about, but their laughter is loud and boisterous and filled with pure joy. 

Bull keeps pace with him, despite his strides being much shorter than the tall Qunari. "It's wonderful seeing them so happy," Dorian says. "A shame they have to keep that happiness as a secret."

"It is."

The silence that falls is comfortable, now, unlike their horseback ride the day before. Dorian feels no need to make small talk to keep up appearances because there's no appearance to keep. There's no conversation topic he feels the need to distract from, and he isn't putting on a performance. They simply enjoy the fits of giggles from ahead of them and the way the sun shines through the leaves once they make it to the forest.

Lada was right, the clearing wasn't far in at all. They walk for only a matter of minutes before they make it to a large clearing filled with light and bright green grass and wildflowers. A few trees have long since fallen, covered in moss and toadstools. "Lada, this place is gorgeous."

"Isn't it?" She beams, shaking out their picnic blanket over a patch of grass that is still partially in the shade. The fabric is worn and faded, an old quilt that's been in use for too many years, though the fabric is soft when he sits. Bull sits next to him, with Sera and Lada taking to opposite corners from them. Suddenly this feels like a couples activity. He isn't sure what he thinks of that. "Sera and I often sneak out here. It's a hidden gem, seeing as no one touches these woods this time of year anyhow."

"And you can be as loud as ya want out here."

"Sera!" Lada scolds, the tips of her ears turning pink as Dorian and Bull struggle to contain their urge to snicker. 

"What? No need to talk all fancy and proper-like out here, yeah? We're in good company." Sera plops the basket of food on the centre of the blanket. "Have at it. I tried to get a bunch of different stuff from the kitchen. Pastries, fruit, all that." 

So they dig in. Dorian finds a danish to his liking and leaves it at that - large meals at the start of the day don't tend to agree with him, and he'd rather talk. "So, Bull - what business are you here for, exactly? You haven't mentioned what you do for work." 

"I'm apart of the Qun, still. I suppose you'd call what I do being... A glorified socialite. There's a party I'm attending next week to meet with connections."

"Ah, I see. Wonderful that you get to travel for work, then."

"It is. I get to see new places all the time and meet some rather interesting people. A lot of stories to tell there - another time." He chuckles. 

"I hope I have the chance to hear those stories someday, then. The only experience I have with truly interesting people are the ones have with those sitting on this blanket, for the most part. My experience with new places is even fewer."

By the time he finishes his danish, Sera is trying to show off how well she can juggle apples. Which is apparently not very, because she ends up tossing one up and hitting herself in the face. She finds solace in sulking with her head in Lada's lap. He finds himself a bit jealous as he watches Lada pet her head and comb through her hair with such an affectionate look. 

He wouldn't admit how deeply he wishes for someone to gaze at him like that, eyes full of love and warmth. He wishes for touch that holds the same emotions as well, touch that goes beyond phycial pleasures. Touch that is tender and caring, not done out of desperation or convenience.

"I need to head back," Sera says after a moment, a pout on her lips. "Haven't done any of my chores this morning, and that's gonna cause some problems." 

"Right, I'll go with you. Boys...?" Lada looks to them.

"You two go ahead. We can bring everything back with us, faster that way." Bull says. Lada nods and the two stand up. Dorian watches them walk away, down the makeshift path they'd travelled to get here. They don't hook arms on the way, keeping a few feet between them. He can still hear their laughter, though. Despite their inability to have any of the things a conventional relationship would have, they seem perfectly happy together. They cherish the moments they're able to have, no matter how few and far between they are. He should take notes. "Everything alright?"

"Excuse me?" Dorian takes his eyes off the path and turns to him with an inquisitive quirk of his brow. 

"You seem rather... Melancholy, today."

"I'm fine," Dorian says without thinking, then has to backtrack. No, he's not fine, and while Bull knows most of his predicament, he wishes not to burden him with the personal details. "...not melancholy- introspective, perhaps. Lada came to me with a rather thought-provoking conversation earlier this morning." 

"Oh, would you like to talk through it?" 

"No... I- I think this is something only I can figure out, for now, although I appreciate the offer." Bull gives a hum of confirmation at that and leans back to lay down, his arms behind his head. Having nothing better to do, Dorian joins him. He hasn't laid on the ground like this sine he was a child. The plush grass is pleasantly cool as he stares up at the trees. The swaying leaves look so far up, from all the way down here, making him feel comfortably small. "...What does your family think of your work?"

"Don't have one. Under the Qun, you're raised by the community. So your 'family' is usually the ones giving you your job."

"That must lower the chance of being a disappointment to them, then." Dorian turns his head to look at him. Bull's eyes are closed instead of taking in the sky, and when Dorian speaks the corner of his mouth twitches. He can't tell if he's suppressing a smile or a frown.

"You'd think that's how it goes. You'd be surprised, though. How do you think Qunari end up outside of Par Vollen? How ones like the Adaar's come to be? Some leave on their own accord. Many are forced from the Qun and stripped of their titles. It's more complicated than you'd think."

"...My apologize. Perhaps now it is I who's come off as insensitive." He'd never thought of that before, why the Adaar's didn't follow the Qun, though they were accepted more easily by Tevinter because of it, and they seemed perfectly happy.

"No worries," Bull smiles and cracks his eye open to look at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. He turns his head as much as he's able with his horns, and when he spots a flower between himself and Dorian, he picks it. He holds it out to Dorian with a laugh. "For you, Mr Pavus." 

"Such a forward gesture. What scandal." He deadpans, though he can't help the laughter that follows when he accepts the flower. The gesture is adorable regardless of whether its a joke or not. He tucks the small purple wildflower into his breast pocket. "How will I ever repay you for this gift? Shall I throw a feast in your honour? Write you into my will? A kiss?" 

"Those first two are a bit extreme." 

And yet he says nothing of the third. It was another joke, but he didn't recoil at the thought. Dorian stares, lips parted, as he considers this. What would happen if he brought that joke into reality? What harm would a kiss do, all the way out here? The clearing felt like a pocket of the world all on its own, where the consequences of the world were discarded. A kiss would be a step down on the wall he was stuck on, but what if he lost his footing? 

He was scared of heights, as it turned out. He stands suddenly and brushes himself off before scooping up the empty basket. "We should be heading back. Would you mind collecting the blanket?" 

"...of course." 

His heart races all the way back despite how little physical exertion the walk takes. He can't stop his mind from wandering, wondering what would happen if he had taken that leap - that kiss - of faith. He wonders if Bull would have pushed him away or if he would have returned it. He wonders if he would speak with him about it later that night or if he would avoid him completely. 

He's still sat on his wall. And even if he had taken that daring step, he plans to return home the very next day, and he'd be climbing back to the top regardless. He spends the rest of the day listening to the girls play the piano or hiding in the garden and indulging in his own introspection, waiting for Lada to find him and prod him about what happened in the clearing. 

He's thankful that the Adaar's have invited other guests for dinner tonight. An older couple he recognizes from previous balls. They give polite smiles when they arrive and see him as a fellow guest at the estate, though it's clear they're thrown off by his presence. He doesn't care. They give little opportunity for any meaningful conversation, a distraction in the form of small talk, and that is all he can ask for. 

"A wonderful meal to end my stay with, thank you."

"Are you making your return home tomorrow then, Mr Pavus?" Mrs Adaar asks. 

"I am." He nods, and his gaze flicks to Bull, where he finds that gaze returned. He can't gauge the purpose of it or the emotion in that shining eye. "I've had a very pleasant visit." 

That night as he changes out of his day clothes, the flower Bull had picked for him falls from his pocket. It's mostly wilted now, it's colour faded and it's petals shrivelling. Despite it's fading beauty, he tucks it between the pages of his book before he packs it back into his case. 

Just as he had said, Dorian is off the next afternoon. They send him off with a hug from Lada, a solid handshake from Bull, and a promise that he'll visit again soon. There's a seed of dread rooting itself in his stomach as he climbs into the carriage and begins the journey back to his home. 

Not dread towards anything in particular. No event, no interaction. Moreso... The dread of going home, as sad as it was to say. The loneliness and isolation, despite not living alone. He pulls out his book to distract himself and finds a paper that does not belong, not a loose or ripped page, but a note.

_'Dear Mr Pavus', it begins in neat handwriting. 'Although our time together was short, I find you quite intriguing. I'd love to speak with you again, however seeing as my time in Tevinter is short, I doubt we'll be able to do so in person. Borders do not deter me if they do not bother you. - Bull'_ beneath the message itself was instructions on how to address a letter to contact him.

Dorian wasn't sure what to think. Bull's intentions weren't clear through the note, but he would be a fool to turn him down. Something more to do to keep himself busy, and perhaps make a friend in the process. He was dreading the loneliness of home, and perhaps this was a solution. He can't help the small smile that forms on his lips as he tucks the note back into his book.


	3. Curiosity

He begins writing the moment he gets home and can slink up to his room. His parents are either away or do not care that he's back. Either way is fine with him, he's a grown man. He doesn't need to check in with his parents the moment he arrives - he knows dinner will have enough of that anyway. 

He sits at his desk and retrieves his pen and his inkwell from the drawer. If he sends it off within the next few days, Bull should have a letter waiting for him when he arrives home in Fereldan. Perhaps he was being over-eager, too hasty in his decision to write to him so soon. On the other hand, he wasn't the one who'd asked to be written to after knowing each other for all of four days. 

'Ventus, Tevinter, Solis 15th, 1813.

Dear Bull,  
I was quite taken aback by the note I found wedged among the pages of my book. How you managed to sneak it into my luggage without my knowledge remains a mystery to me, and yet it is one I don't care too deeply to solve. I'm far more focused on the note itself, rather than its history. I'm flattered that you wish to write to me and continue to get to know each other. 

I enjoyed spending time with you, no matter how short it was. You have an air of mystery about you that makes me curious. You're easy to talk to, as well, more so than the majority of my countrymen. Perhaps it is the open-mindedness you've expressed, and the fact that I do not need to explain my existence to you - as you already understand it.

I hope your business went well and that you enjoyed the rest of your stay in Tevinter. Hopefully, it charms you so greatly that you cannot stay away for long and it pains you to leave. By the time you read this, you've already made it home, maker willing. To add to my list of hope's in this letter, I hope you had a safe journey. 

Do tell me in your response of any occurrences from the remainder of your trip, especially any of humour. I'm always in need of a laugh.

-Mr. Dorian Pavus'

He's running out of daylight by the time he signs his name and slips it into an envelope, the sun setting past the line of trees. He takes it downstairs with him for dinner and is pleased to run into one of the servants before he makes it to the dining room. 

"Ah, Cole," Dorian smiles. "I have a letter on it's way to Fereldan, could you make sure it gets sent off?" 

"Fereldan is a long ways away. You have a friend there?" 

"Something like that, yes. A... _friend_ to be, hopefully." 

"How exciting... I'll send it out as soon as possible."

Dorian passes the letter over to him with a smile. "Thank you, Cole. I appreciate it." With that, he's on his way, sure that dinner must almost be ready. He isn't looking forward to the questions about his standing with Lada.

\---

It's a month before he receives a letter back from Bull. Dorian forgets about in entirely, caught up in studying and practicing his magic and reading his books, attending one of those dull parties.

So when Cole comes up to his room with a letter for him, he's pleasantly surprised. The envelope is closed with a red wax seal that he carefully peels off to open. 

'Haven, Fereldan, Matrinalis 11th, 1813.

Dear Dorian,  
My apologies for taking so long to get back to you. I arrived home a week ago and couldn't spare time to sit and write. I can now, however, and am happy to do so.

I notice your letter was dated the last day you spent at the Adaar estate. I wasn't expecting you to find the note so fast, nor was I expecting you to write the letter as soon as you could. In all honesty, I wasn't sure you'd write at all. Given what Lada has told me, you seem to be a rather indecisive man at times, mister Pavus. Your quick decision and correspondence charms me.

My travels were safe and my business went well, as you'd hoped. Perhaps your letter wrote it to be.

There weren't many laughs to be had or to be shared in my business and nothing of note happened on route to Haven, though when I arrived, a friend of mine who watched over the horses at my estate while I was away, told me your letter had come. He awaited my arrival with crosses arms and shoved the letter into my hand before chastising me for seducing a Tevinter mage.

Take whatever satisfaction in that situation as you'd like.

-Bull'

\---

'Ventus, Tevinter, Matrinalis 21st, 1813.

Dear Bull,  
You thought I wouldn't take up an opportunity to socialize with someone so agreeable, even at such a distance? You know of my situation, naturally, I was going to take up the offer. I'd be a fool to let you slip away. 

While I awaited your letter I've been preoccupying myself with my studies, as well as piecing together my points for my next debate in the Circle. So don't worry yourself with quick replies, as I do happen to have my own responsibilities as well, beyond the art of letter-writing. I have my letters to Lada between as well, as we have picked it up once more after my visit. I do wonder, do you write to her as well?

And while your companion's reaction did make me chuckle, it does inspire questions in my curious mind. You asked me to take whatever satisfaction I liked in that story, but what satisfaction did you take, if any? Do you find it comical that he would assume such a thing, or do you think that he's correct? 

Do you think yourself so charming that you could seduce the 'Tevinter Mage' in such a short time? If this was his assumption, is this not the first time? Do you have a history with such conquests? And let's say that you had seduced him, what would be your next move?

All hypotheticals.   
-Dorian Pavus.'

\---

'The Storm Coast, Fereldan, Parvulis 9th, 1813.

Dear Dorian,  
I write to you from another assignment, yet I've found myself with more free time here in the cabin I stay in. It's good to hear you've been keeping yourself busy, and that you don't wait by the door to hear from me, though that would be uplifting to my own ego to hear. If you'd be inclined to share more of your work with the Circle, I'd be happy to read it. If our letters did not take so long to get to each other, I would offer to help your arguments. I've been told I've been persuasive. 

The Storm Coast is not a place I'd recommend for your eventual trip to Fereldan, I don't think. While I find it calming, it's much different than Tevinter. As the name suggests it is right off the sea. The air is perpetually wet and heavy, mist or rain in the air since the moment I arrived. Even as I sit and write this, I can hear the waves crashing against the cliffs. Perhaps it is not the best climate for a holiday, I may suggest passing through someday. The ocean is a beautiful site here.

I've told Lada the same thing, though I have a feeling she'd enjoy the rain more. That answers that question of yours. Yes, I do write to her - though rather infrequently. 

Allow me to sate that 'curious mind' of yours: I've seduced both men and women in the past, so my companion wasn't reaching when he came to that conclusion. As you know, Qunari opinions on such things are very different from the modesty of Tevinter or even Fereldan. However, I do not think I seduced this Tevinter mage. I believe that he would be more forward with me if I had, though I hope I may have elicited something else in him. 

And if I had seduced him? My next move would be something unwise to tell you, for fear of the chance this letter gets intercepted. I'd rather not ruin either of our reputations with such salacious words.

If I had inspired some other feeling from him, my plan would be to invite him to explore his own emotions, to spare some reflection and ask himself if those feelings are something he would like to chase.   
-Bull'

The letter arrives slightly warped and the writing smudged in places, presumably from rain. it's all still legible, though Dorian wishes some parts weren't so that he had an excuse to ignore them. 

Bull was right. He had made him feel something, though Dorian wasn't sure he knew what it was, or at the very least wasn't sure if he was ready to give it a name. 

It was... Interest. A desire to know more, curiosity. Was there anything beyond that? Perhaps. Was it seduction, as Bull's companion had accused? Surprisingly, no. He found Bull quite attractive, sure, but that wasn't what drew him in. If Bull were to offer that to him he wouldn't turn him down, but he'd be... Disappointed, that it was his motive. 

He supposed the best question to ask himself was this: In the woods, did he want to kiss him? 

Yes, he had.

The more important question he thinks to ask himself is why, what was the reason he wanted to kiss him? Why did he want that? What was he after?

That one is less clear to him. It wasn't a thing of lust. It hadn't even crossed his mind in the moment. He plays the moment back in his head, treats it like imagining a scene in a book. 

He leans in to kiss Bull, bringing a hand to hold his cheek. His stubble against his palm, his lips warm against his own. The sunlight sparkles around them like magic as Bull pulls him in closer, a large hand on his waist as the gentle kiss was returned. And when they pulled away, Bull would look at him with something special in his eyes, and kiss him again. He'd run his fingers through Dorian's hair, and later he would tell Lada it had been tousled by the wind. 

They would exchange knowing smiles that night at dinner, and Dorian would sneak to his room later that night just to give him another kiss goodnight. 

Dorian finds the answer to his question in the thumping of his chest and the way the thought alone takes his breath away. 

'Ventus, Tevinter, Parvulis 31st, 1813.

Dear Bull,  
I appreciate the interest in my debates, though I doubt that interest would carry once I began explaining them. It all has to do with magic in education and Tevinter history, of Magisters and corruption, of preservation of ancient texts. I do not doubt your intelligence but rather how interesting the mundane instances of a culture that is not your own can be when you have never experienced them. 

Along with that, there is something heavy on my mind that I cannot ignore in favour of explaining my arguments. In your previous letter, you spoke of eliciting emotions and requested introspection. 

It's taken me a few days to sit down and bring myself to write this, I must admit. I've put much thought into it, doing that reflecting as you suggested, and thinking of how to put it into words. And deciding if I was going to go through with writing those words down and sending it off to be read. I am not a man who fancies vulnerability. 

I'm afraid you've ignited something wild in me, Mr Ashkaari, and I fear it may burn me if I dwell on it for too long. I've discovered my curiosity is rooted in pondering what a closeness to you would feel like. I find myself curious about everything you say, hooked on every word you've said or written. I want to know more, and this comes as a surprise to me when most I meet bore me. 

While I'm spilling my heart onto the page, I may as well write with complete honesty of our meeting. In the woods after our picnic, there was a moment where I nearly pressed my lips to yours. I find myself coming back to this thought since you urged me to reflect, and I regret not going through with it. If you'd be so kind as to humour me, how would you have reacted if I had? What would have been going through your head? 

If this is too forward, please don't hesitate to tell me as strongly as you'd like, and I will back down. I do enjoy hearing about your travels and the places you stay in, about what they're like. If you wish to continue our correspondence, I would take pleasure in hearing more of these places.   
-Dorian Pavus'

He seeks out Cole again, once the letter is sealed and addressed. Cole doesn't bother with gossip, making him the best confidant out of the servants of the estate. With him, he trusts there'll be no speculation of the letter's contents or who they're to. He's a good kid. 

He finds him dusting in the library, standing precariously on one of the stools to clean the top of a bookshelf. "Ah, there you are. Thank you for taking care of it in here, I've been meaning to do it myself. It's rather hard to focus on reading when I'm sneezing every other page." he chuckles. "I have another letter." 

"I was wondering when you would have it ready," Cole smiles at him, all awkward and lopsided. His hair is always in his eyes, somehow. Dorian has suggested a haircut multiple times and Cole always says that he likes it this way. To each his own. He steps down from the stool and collects the letter. "Oh! A love letter?"

Dorian's initial reaction is to bristle and defend himself. His second is to question. Cole's disinterest in gossip most likely had something to do with the fact that he seemed to simply... Know things. His intuition was beyond strange, though it certainly added interest to Dorian's life. "What makes you say that?"

"It feels different. This one carries more weight than the others have. It is the weight of anxiety and longing." 

"Oh. I see." It wasn't a love letter, was it? It was certainly one of... Confession, but did that count? "I suppose it isn't too far from that, though I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else."

"Of course, Dorian. I will keep your secret."

\---

'Haven, Fereldan, Frumentum 12th, 1813.

My dearest Dorian,  
Many thoughts would be racing through my head, should you have kissed me that day. When Lada told me of you, speaking so highly, I was intrigued. You seemed interesting. When we finally met, your theatrical entrance endeared me, as did your openness the very next day when our conversation got more personal. If you had kissed me, I would have invited it. I wish you had. 

If you had kissed me, I would have returned it with no hesitation. I would have kissed you after it too, and again after that one if you allowed me.

If this is how you truly feel, I'd like it if you would explore this with me, as slow as you'd like. If not, I understand. You deserve happiness and freedom to love just as much as anyone else. I saw the way you look at Lada and her love. It's something you desire, and you should follow that. Whether it is with me or someone else.

My offer to visit Fereldan stands now more than ever if you would like to address this in person. Until I hear from you next, take care.  
Sincerely, Bull.'

Now that... That one really was a love letter.

His invitation is tempting, but it comes at the worst time. His parents wouldn't want him to be away from the family for Satinalia in the coming month, let alone in another country for it. A visit to Fereldan would have to wait until he could get a good chunk of time free. At least a month, preferably two to be able to see as much of the country as he could. 

Between Satinalia next month and Wintersend in two, when he'd be attending parties and tourneys in Minrathous, it was going to be awhile.

He was going to be daydreaming of this trip in the meanwhile, however. He tucks the letter beneath his pillow.

To keep it hidden, of course.


	4. Poetry

'Ventus, Tevinter, Frumentum 26th, 1813.

My dear Bull,  
I desperately wish to visit you. However, the coming months are some of the busiest, and I'm afraid I'll have to postpone the offer until spring at the earliest. Coming up with excuses of why I'd like to travel to Fereldan, without the company of my parents, is another issue on its own that I'll have to deal with when the time comes.

Lada has been nudging me to seek the happiness you speak of for years. I am not sure how I will do it, but I am ready to try. I would be honored to accept your proposal of courtship if that's what this is. My only demand that you send me sappy poetry at your early convenience. 

All jokes, though I wouldn't turn it down. If you're half as good at poetry as you are at playing the piano, you'll win me over in no time.

Apologies for the short letter and the sloppy penmanship. I've been doing nothing I haven't already written of, and my hands are particularly shaky today. A happy Satinalia to you.  
-Dorian.'

Reasonably so, he thought. His mother came up to his room as he wrote, opened the door without the discretion of knocking. He'd had the last letter to Bull out on his desk to refer back to, had to hide it quickly before her nosiness did him in. He got it from somewhere.

He lied and said he was writing to Lada when she asked about the letter in front of him. 

\---

'Crestwood, Fereldan, Umbralis 12th, 1813.

My dearest Dorian,  
If 'courtship' is what you'd like to call it, then that is what we'll call it. Haven is at it's prettiest in the spring, in my opinion, so perhaps holding off on a visit works in our favour.

As I write this I'm visiting Crestwood, a village in the west. The most noteworthy of the place is an old military outpost called Caer Bronach. It's in partial ruin now, but it remains impressive nonetheless. It's easy to imagine how it looked in its full glory.

The town had it's first snowfall after my arrival, seeing as we're about to enter winter. As the flakes fell upon still-green grass, I wondered what you would think of it. Have you ever seen snow? I hadn't until I came to Fereldan, for the climate is far too warm in Par Vollen. With Tevinter between the two countries, I suppose it could go either way. 

A happy Satinalia to you as well, though it has passed here and will be long gone by the time this reaches you. How were your celebrations? My own were not much, spent traveling here to Crestwood.

As for your poetry, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you waiting for a while.  
-Bull'

\---

'Ventus, Tevinter, Umbralis 23rd, 1813.

My dear Bull,  
No, I've never seen snow - but I have always wondered what it's like. Cold, naturally, but to describe it is much different than to feel it. It will occasionally snow in the mountains, in any civilized areas this far north. Perhaps closer to the border. A shame I cannot visit in the winter to see it. Perhaps someday.

Crestwood sounds wonderful. We have many old structures still standing as well. You've mentioned visiting Tevinter before, but have you ever been to Minrathous? It's one of the oldest cities in all of Thedas, and the biggest. Plenty of architecture to appreciate. 

As for my holiday, It was the best I've had in a long while. I was able to see Lada and another friend of mine, Felix. He fell ill before last Satinalia and I hadn't been able to see him since. His father hosted a party at his estate this year, and so we were able to sneak away from the party to catch up. Which also meant there were no attempts from my parents to get me to dance with anyone.

He was one of my confidants, along with Lada, as teenagers. His father was a tutor of mine so I've spent much time in their estate. He asked if I'd met anyone. I told him of you, how Lada had introduced us and that we've been sending letters back and forth since summer. 

He said he was happy for us.  
-Dorian'

\---

'Haven, Fereldan, Cassus 1st, 1813.

My dearest Dorian,  
If you're able to visit in the spring, there's still a chance of you seeing snow. Surrounded by mountains, there's still frequently snow into the spring in Haven. If not, it gives you an excuse to come back. 

To answer your question: Yes, I have been to Minrathous. However, I was unable to stay long or do much sightseeing. It was for business and I was there not even two days. Perhaps that will be my excuse for another visit, if you'd be so kind as to show me the best places in the city. We'll have to start making plans for what we should do and where we should go for your visit. Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to see?

I'm happy to hear your holidays went smoothly and that you were able to reunite with your friend. It's interesting you bring up telling him, though, as I recently told my companion I'd previously mentioned, the one who accused me of seducing you. Krem is his name. You'll likely meet him when you come to stay.

He asked if I was still writing to you, asked your name. If only I could properly describe how his face looked when I told him your name, how his jaw dropped. He's from Tevinter, originally, and knew of your family. What a small world it is.   
-Bull'

\---

'Ventus, Tevinter, Cassus 19th, 1813.

My dear Bull,  
I've been thinking of where I'd like to go in Fereldan. I have enough of an answer to fill the whole page. I've always heard great things of Denerim, of its expansive marketplace. As a man who's fond of history, I find Ostagar intriguing. Haven, of course. 

However, I'd find my trip much more enjoyable if we bypassed tourism and saw the places you think important. Whether they be cities or nooks of forests where there happens to be a particularly interesting tree, I'm much more invested in seeing what Fereldan is like than seeing what I believe it's like. Even if it is one of the dreary places you describe visiting and seem to enjoy. I'm coming to see you more than the country, though sightseeing is a bonus.

I'd be happy to do the same to you should you find yourself back in Tevinter. There are plenty of hidden gems in Minrathous if you know where to look and aren't afraid of straying off the main streets. On the topic of Tevinter - I told you word gets around quickly here, I'm not surprised your friend has heard of my family, though I am rather disappointed. I hope my name is not already tainted by disapproval in his mind, and that we can get along when we meet.  
-Dorian' 

\---

'Haven, Fereldan, Cassus 31st, 1813.

My dearest Dorian,  
I'd be honored to show you the parts of Fereldan you've described. I believe we can find. A happy medium between tourism and realism. We can visit the lesser-known areas of Denerim, the gems hidden in the side streets as you described in Minrathous. I can name a few places I'd like to take you, and we can visit as many as you'd like, depending on how long you're able to stay. 

You won't have a problem with Krem. The story isn't mine to tell, but he had his own struggles in Tevinter, not unlike yours, though he had no reputation to ruin coming from a poor family. I think you two will get on just fine. 

I write this on the last day of the year, and so I wish you a happy First Day. I hope the new year is treating you well thus far. Knowing that this brings us closer to spring has certainly brightened the turn of the year for me. If I recall correctly, Tevinter has quite the event coming up next month for Wintersend, doesn't it? Do you have any plans?  
-Bull'

\---

'Ventus, Tevinter, Verimensis 17th, 1814.

My dear Bull,  
A happy First day to you as well. The start of the year has been decent, the only changes being the strangeness of marking a different year on my writings and my growing yearning for spring. 

You are correct - Wintersend brings all sorts of tourneys and competitions to Minrathous. My family will be staying there for a week to watch the excitement and attend parties. I don't mind Minrathous parties much, though, as the food and drink are typically much better than any other. The people are far more interesting as well. Expect to hear much about it in my next letter, for I intend to document it well. 

Wintersend also marks my freedom from responsibilities. Once it has settled, I can make arrangements for my visit. My excitement is only matched by my nervousness. I'm unsure of how this courtship will manifest in person, or what to expect from this holiday. More than all, though, I'm afraid it may solidify my attachment to you and that I won't want to leave your side to return to Tevinter. That in my stay, you may become Home to me.

I'm still waiting on that poetry I requested, by the way.  
-Love, Dorian.'


	5. Destination

'Minrathous, Tevinter, Pluitanis 4th, 1814.

My apologies for not responding to your last letter, if it has even arrived. I couldn't wait to reply to you, for I am unsure if I will have the chance to anytime soon. My holiday jaunt has turned out to be not so pleasant, though I'm unsure why I am surprised - for luck is never in my favour when it comes to my family. I am a fool for thinking I could stretch their patience forever. 

They've taken Wintersend as an opportunity to tell me that they've arranged a marriage. They grew tired of every woman they nudged in my direction being rejected, so they've taken it into their own hands. I told them no, of course. They aren't having it. They introduced me to her at a party, a nice girl with money and a family name that piques interest. I doubt they're going to let her slip away.

I cannot. I refuse to live my life pretending, to live it putting on the mask of an idealized man every day until I die a shrivelled, miserable old man. I'd rather die as young as I am in the arms of another man than live life as a full time thespian my parents are forcing me to be. 

We're to be married as soon as summer arrives. I do not know how I will escape this life, nor do I know if future letters will be intercepted once I return home. If nothing else I will assure Lada can relay a message to you, somehow, until I can weasel my way out of the arrangements.

You've given me a taste of happiness in these past months that I've never had before, and I will not let it go so easily. You've given me a taste of love. For that, I am ever grateful, and my dear, I promise to thank you properly as soon as I can. I still intend on visiting, though I am unsure how long this will postpone it.  
-Love, Dorian.'

He tries to hide the panic he feels when he writes the letter, when he signs it with shaky hands and seals it into an envelope. He's gotten so close to happiness, yet he is a chained dog. The length of his chain had given him a false sense of freedom, and now he is being reeled in. 

Surely they cannot force him to marry. He'll run away before then, slip from their grasps the day of the wedding if he needs. He'll escape to Lada's and figure it out from there, or make his way to Fereldan as soon as he's able to be packed. 

They set off for home the very next morning. Dorian's eyes are red from tears and how little of sleep he'd gotten the previous night. Despite his plan to run away, the situation still feels trapping. A heavy lock on a door or a boulder on his chest. What will happen if they find he's been writing to Bull? If they don't allow him to send any letters out? What if he can no longer write and Bull forgets about him during the silence? Then he surely has nowhere to go, for he could not stay with Lada or even Felix for long. 

The carriage ride is tense. Dorian is unable to let himself relax, or to meet his father's eyes. When he meets his mother's, he swears he sees something like pity in them. He doesn't look again to check. 

"I expect so little from you, Dorian," His father says when the silence grows unbearable for everyone. He speaks too softly. He sounds hurt, genuinely, that Dorian has put up any resistance. "Can you not give us this? Can you not fix your mistake, our reputation? Do you not want to make me proud?" 

He had, once, was the thing. As a child, all he had wanted was his father's approval. And now, all he wanted was to be in Fereldan in the arms of his sweetheart. He cares not of his father's approval, or so he likes to think. The question still stings. "Did I not make you proud of my intelligence? With my work with the circle? Alexius is more proud of me than you are than you ever will be. I'm not going to win your approval by marrying a stranger."

"Then what about Miss Lada? If you throw a fit over a stranger, then why not a friend? We can call the engagement off and make an arrangement with the Adaar's, instead."

"I'm not marrying Lada, either. When I choose to marry it will be for love."

"You owe this, after your stunt. Do you pay no mind to our well-being? You've tarnished our name, and you plan on doing nothing of it?" 

Dorian's fists clench in his lap. He keeps his mouth shut after that, knowing that anything he says will only serve to bring him more rage. He'd rather sit in painful silence than be at each other's throats for the next hour until they arrive home.

There's no letter from Bull waiting for him. He'd hoped there would be. Something to look forward to, something to hold onto until he was out of his mess. He only has the old letters to tide him over until the next, assuming that it will make it to him. He prays that it does.

And yet there is nothing.

He waits weeks, filling every hour of the day with whatever he can. Horseback around the property, reading, studying, even keeping a journal for maker's sake.

Could he leave as he pleased? Perhaps, but he would be leaving with no money and no support. His parents have prohibited him from sending any letters, as he'd suspected, and the rule leaves him anxious of what they may know. He cannot contact Lada or Felix or Bull, cannot ask for their assistance. If he ran, he wouldn't make it far with all of his assets in his inheritance. Having no contact with anyone but his parents and the servants is driving him mad. 

Dorian brushes himself off as he hops off of his horse. One of the servants was sent with him to make sure he didn't stray too far. It was ridiculous, them keeping him tethered so close to home. He was a grown man, dammit. He feels like a princess in those old fairy tales meant to scare children from misbehaving, locked in towers or cursed by an evil witch. In this case, the evil witch was his father. He supposes the role fits, as being a Magister in this country may as well be being an evil witch. 

He starts up the steps of the estate while the servant puts the horses away when he sees a flash of blonde hair from around the corner. When he turns his head to look, Cole is beckoning him to the side of the house. Really, Cole is the only servant he trusts right now - his parents underestimate him and as far as Dorian knows, haven't involved him in keeping their son prisoner in his own home. So he follows.

Cole strains his neck to look past Dorian and make sure he hasn't been followed. "Mister Dorian, I've overheard something awful. You must leave immediately."

"That's easier said than done. What have you heard?" 

"Your father- he spoke to one of the other servants of ritual preparations, about assuring that his reputation is restored." 

Dorian isn't stupid. He can connect the dots easily, though he wishes he could deny it. His heart is in his throat and he feels as if he may gag on it, he feels sick. Blood magic was something he knew was performed more than the nation liked to admit, but... His own father? Planning to perform blood magic to... What? To _change_ him? 

He hadn't expected such drastic measures. He swallows the betrayal and panic along with his heart. "That can mean nothing good. Thank you for telling me, Cole, I'll... Pack my belongings and figure something out." 

"I have something else. I hadn't had the chance to give it to you in secrecy," Cole procures an envelope from his breast pocket. It's slightly crumpled, but Dorian recognizes the red seal right away. He huffs out a breath of relief. "He has sent money to help you to Fereldan." 

"Did you- did you read it? ...No, of course you didn't," The seal is still intact when the letter is handed over to him. "You just know."

Cole smiles sheepishly and nods. "I will arrange a carriage for you tonight if you can sneak out after everyone goes to sleep. I want to help." 

"I can manage that. I am more grateful than you will ever know, Cole."

\---

After dinner, Dorian wonders if he should pursue theatre once he's in Fereldan. Acting as if nothing was wrong as his parents spoke over dinner was no small feat, with the pit of rage and pain in his stomach. They don't suspect a thing. They don't know that this is likely the last time they will see him unless they decide to make amends further down the line. Even then... He isn't sure he'll be able to forgive his father for the betrayal he had planned. 

He knows he needs to travel light, so he intends to leave with the clothes on his back and whatever he can fit into a satchel. He packs a couple of his favourite books, a few letters he'd received from Lada or Felix in the past. He packs all his letters from Bull. He doesn't want his parents raiding his room once he's gone and finding easy evidence of where he's headed. He wants to hear no pleading for him to return home.

He's polite enough to write a note to leave, though, and for that they should be thankful. He doesn't believe his father deserves it. 

_'I'm long gone by the time you find this. You've had plenty of chances to keep your heir and you've squandered each one. Your attempts to save face have left you without a son._

_Do not try and find me, for even if you do I will not be guilted into returning. I'm not coming home, nor do I expect to find myself in Tevinter anytime soon.  
-Dorian.'_

He leaves the note on his writing desk in plain view for them should they come looking for him the next morning. The anger and feelings of betrayal have largely faded into sadness. If he hadn't had some hope for the future here, he would have left a long time ago. And now... There's nothing, and he's forced to start anew. 

There's so much he's leaving behind. Lada - though he intends to write to her as soon as he's out of the country and implore her and Sera to follow suit. The Alexius family. He's sure word will travel to them fast. With Felix's poor health, who knows if he'll ever see him again. 

While he wants to be fine with leaving home, leaving his parents, this is where he was raised. He loves his parents, for all their faults. This is not how wished their parting to be.

He decides to leave his stave behind, as well. He has his magic without it and he knows he'll be able to get a new one. Still, seeing the staff he's had since fifteen leaning against his wall as he shuts his bedroom door behind him fills him with sadness. He's far too sentimental for his own good. 

Cole is waiting for him outside along with a carriage to send him off in when he sneaks out, his back over his shoulder and the most recent, unopened letter from Bull in his hand. "Do you have everything you need?" 

"More or less, yes. Thank you." He opens his arms for a hug. Cole looks confused for a moment before he shyly shuffles closer to wrap his arms around Dorian. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me? I'd be more than honored to have your company."

"I like it here. I think I need to stay." The lanky boy pulls away after Dorian pats his back. "I hope we meet again someday, though. I'd like to see your happiness." 

"I hope we meet again as well, Cole. You take care of yourself."

And with that... Dorian climbs into the carriage and watches his childhood home grow smaller as they retreat down the dirt path. When he can no longer see Cole waving at him, he summons a light and breaks the seal of Bull's letter. Just like Cole had said, there's money tucked into the envelope next to the letter.

'Haven, Fereldan, Pluitanis 29th, 1814.

My dearest Dorian,  
I've already started preparing for your arrival. This wouldn't be my first time getting someone out of Tevinter, and I hope you hold enough trust in me to go through with my instructions.

I've included enough money for food, shelter, and travel along the way, until our rendevous point. Travel south to Hasmal in The Free Marches. I have a friend in the Marches who owes me a favour - I'll write to him and have him meet you after you cross the border. He'll accompany you to Kirkwall. You'll take a boat from there to cross over to The Storm Coast, where I'll meet you. 

I urge you to stay safe and to begin your journey as soon as this letter reaches you.  
-Yours, Bull.'

The care he's put into this... Dorian isn't sure he deserves it. He's going to such great lengths to help him get out of Tevinter as safely and easily as possible, and he didn't even know the full scope of how bad things had become. The letter was written nearly a month ago. Cole must have been holding onto it for a while.

The tucks the letter into his satchel beside the rest of them and does his best to shut his eyes and get anything close to sleep. They'll make it to a stagecoach station by morning and he'd like to be as rested as possible so that he isn't passing out in the middle of the day. It's wishful thinking, with so much on his mind. 

On the bright side, he supposes he's doing that traveling he's always dreamed of, now. He'll be passing through the Marches as well as Fereldan. He's never been on a boat, either. New adventures all around.

He's off the personal carriage and into the paid stagecoach before the sun rises. His legs are stiff, even with the few minutes he's given to stretch. Once he reaches the border, he'll give himself more leniency. Right now, he just wants to get out of the Imperium as quickly as he's able. His parents have likely found his note by now, and he'd rather them not go looking. The further he is the better. He's making good time.

In the time the sun has come up and set again, he's made it to an inn about half a day's trip from the border. A quaint little place with plain rooms and a small bed, a table and a chair. Nothing more than you need, and with it came a cheap price.

He's able to write his letter to Lada now, without the bumpiness of the road.   
He tells her where he's going and why he's left. The arranged marriage and the ritual his father was apparently planning. He uses it as a cautionary tale, that if she doesn't escape soon as well, her parents may reach the tipping point of forcing her to marry. Tevinter is no place for high-society lovers. 

\---

It occurs to him, as he crosses over the border the next afternoon, that he doesn't know how he's supposed to identify this friend of Bull's, or how his friend will know when he'll arrive. He received Bull's letter far later than he normally would, the timing is off. 

And for the first time, he feels alone and lost. He isn't, of course, he knows that he's in Hasmal and he knows that Kirkwall is a straight shot south. He is in a new place, though, that is far too different from the home he's used to. And he's on his own, quite literally, for the first time in his life. 

The carriage pulls into the station and Dorian steps out with achy legs. This is one of the few places in the Marches he knows of, knows that this place sees a lot of immigrants from Tevinter. It's no bustling city like Minrathous. In fact, the best descriptor he can think of is... Desolate. There isn't much in the town itself, just the necessities. There are empty booths where he assumes a market is held some days. A few shops strung about, an inn, and the stagecoach station. Beyond that, it all seems to be housing. 

"Dorian, yes?"

He's barely out of the carriage when he hears the voice behind him and sees the dwarven man leaning against the station, with blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and a friendly smile on his face. His clothes are that of a richer man, yet his shirt is halfway unbuttoned and his waistcoat is wrinkled and ill-fitting. "Yes, that would be me. Are you Mr Ashkaari's friend, perchance?" 

"That'd be me. Varric Tethras, at your service." He holds his hand out for a handshake that Dorian promptly accepts. He can pick out the handshake of a businessman right away. 

"Dorian Pavus. A pleasure to meet you. How did you know when I'd be arriving?" 

"Bull's got connections everywhere. He's been making sure you're safe."

That was about the least helpful answer he could have been given. How cryptic and vague - though he can make a solid assumption that asking what that means isn't going to get him a more satisfactory answer. 

"We've already got you set up with a room in the inn here. They serve dinner, so once you've got a hot meal and a good night's rest, we'll be set to head off first thing in the morning." 

The inn has a small commons area for dining, just a few tables. It's rather charming. He and Varric sit together to eat - if they're going to be traveling together for the next few days, he supposes they should at least begin to get to know each other. He's happy to have company again, even that of a stranger. As a friend of Bull's, though... He doesn't feel the same sort of stranger as those he'd make small talk with at parties. If he had Bull's approval, he must be a good man. 

Yet he's unsure of how much he knows of their entanglement, so he avoids it as much as possible. "So, how do you and Bull know each other?"

"Business."

"That's quite vague. You know, I don't believe he's ever told me what he does, beyond 'business' and working within The Qun." 

"Business is shorthand for politics, in the simplest terms. From what I understand it's mostly Intel and gauging the political climate through gossip. A government-employed socialite, basically. Honestly, I don't know much more than that. Little guy keeps it pretty quiet." Varric chuckles. 

"So I've gathered."

"What about you? How'd you meet the big oaf? His letter was urgent, but he didn't give many details on the circumstances."

"With good reason, for the circumstances themselves are rather... Complicated. A long story. To answer your question, though. We met through a mutual friend last summer and hit it off quite well, and through our letters we've grown closer."

"Figured that much. His letter was pretty panicked, and it isn't often he gets that unraveled. You must mean a lot to him."

That's flattering, in a strange way. Bull's letter to him had come off so calm and calculated, but to know his concern for him had shown to Varric... Made him somewhat giddy. He's ready to see Bull again and show him that he's alright, to thank him for all he's done. In these past weeks, and in the past months in general.

They set off the next morning, just as Mr Tethras had said they would. He's spent the last few days sitting in carriages alone, so the filled silence is a welcomed change. He learns that Mr Tethras is a writer, and quite the verbal storyteller as well. The day passes quickly as he recalls many wild tales that Dorian can't quite tell if they are fact or fiction. That's what makes a good storyteller, he supposes. 

He's exhausted and hungry and sore when they get to their stop that night. Proper meals are hard to come by on the road, so he's been eating dinner when he stops and perhaps a fruit as breakfast if he's lucky. His back aches from the hard seats. There are only two more nights, however: in the inn tonight, and one when they reach Kirkwall tomorrow. The next night he'll be at The Storm Coast with Bull. 

That on its own makes every grumble of his stomach and every time he tosses and turns in the uncomfortable inn bed worth it. 

\---

Kirkwall is a bustling city. Once again - nothing compared to Minrathous, though the comparison is unfair. Kirkwall is impressive in its own regard, with a big marketplace my the docks and big ships in its port. He's seen the ocean more times than he can count, but the nature of Kirkwall as a trading port changes the feel of it completely. 

He wishes to see more of it, someday. More than walking through the city just to get to the docks, he wants to properly explore it. For now, though, his departure is a relief. He wants to be with Bull. He wants to be home. 

"Alright, this is where we part ways," Varric says when they reach one of the ports where a boat is preparing to set off. He seems to know the city well. Dorian isn't surprised - Kirkwall came up a handful of times in the stories he's told since they met. "Bull said he sent the fare for the boat with you, so you're set on that front. Fereldan's coast is only a few hours out, so you'll get there before sunset."

"Thank you, Mr Tethras. It's been a pleasure, and your company and guidance are greatly appreciated." 

"Not a problem, it's been an honor." He offers another handshake before they part. "I doubt this'll be the last time we meet. I visit Fereldan pretty often myself."

"I look forward to it."

\---

Something new Dorian has discovered about himself is that he isn't fond of boats. Not of the way they sway on the water and make his stomach turn, nor the way the salty air whips at his face and chaps his lips. It's boring, too, nothing to look at besides the shrinking city. Unlike the carriages, he can't look out a window and watch the scenery go by. The scenery here is water upon water that makes him dizzy to look at for too long.

He eventually sits on the deck with his back against the side and tries not to be sick. It protects him from the wind for the most part, at least. It's fine until it starts raining. He takes his waistcoat off and drapes it over the top of his head to keep his face dry, at least. He's sure he looks like a damn fool. 

The journey feels incredibly long with nothing to do, and yet he's still caught off guard when the boat starts to slow to a stop. When he stands, he sees that they're docking, and his heart does all sorts of funny things. There are the cliffs Bull described in his letter about The Storm Coast, and the rain to match. Bull was right - he hated it. Or rather, he had hated it. Now that his destination was very much within reach, just off the boat, he gave very little care to the rain that soaked his clothes. 

He cared not that the now cold fabric of his shirt clung to his skin, nor that he'd been wearing the same clothes since he left Tevinter, nor that his stomach growled because when he climbs down the ladder of the boat and sees Bull at the end of the dock. He's just as drenched as he is from waiting. Despite it, he wears the stupidest grin on his face. 

Dorian miraculously avoids slipping on the wet wood beneath his feet as he runs and flings himself into Bull's arms. He hears his love whisper "My Kadan," as he wraps him up in a big, strong hug, as he lifts him and spins him like it's nothing. 

He wants to sob from pure joy as he clings to the Qunari, gripping the back of his shirt like it's his only vice. He's climbed down that wall he's been sat on his entire life. Going down the ladder of the boat was the last few steps down - and he can't believe he couldn't see what was on this side from up there. If he had, he would have jumped from that wall with his arms outstretched. It's beautiful, being wrapped up in the arms of the man he loves. 

Without thinking, he kisses him. With no thought to what or who was around them, he places a hand on his cheek and presses his lips to Bull's. It makes his head swim just as much as he had fantasized about, and he kicks himself for not doing this last summer when he'd had the chance.

Patience had never been his strong suit. But perhaps it had paid off, for once, for each day that had passed waiting for this made it that much sweeter. Each day leading up to this moment was a mere prologue to his life. He's beginning anew. In a new country, a new adventure, ready to nurture this blossoming love he's` procured with Bull over the past months in person. 

And he is perfectly, incandescently happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all!
> 
> It's not my best work, but I am proud of myself for being able to write as much as I did and break out of my one-shot/shortfic comfort zone.


End file.
